


Painting Over the Mud

by TiBun



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Historical Inaccuracy, Human!Ronald, M/M, Quick relationship, Ronalliam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-24 08:30:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/937831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TiBun/pseuds/TiBun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ronald held a passion for a life far different from what his Father had planned for him. He wished to be an artist, Placing his emotions on a canvas. But he knew his Father would never allow it. Little does he know that his Fate is about to change for eternity with the help of a mysterious man he met one day...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Painting Over the Mud

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: we do not own any recognizable characters. we only explore the possibilities.
> 
> Co-written RP-style with Moisca (DA) as William

****

It was a warm spring day, and Ronald Knox was out enjoying the warm air after being stuck in classes all day. He lay across a bench, his school books at his side, one open in front of him, and a pen tucked behind his ear so that he could quickly mark passages or make notes as he read. The courtyard he had chosen was surprisingly vacant of students for such a nice day. But he was glad for the quiet. It gave him the chance to get more studying in for the upcoming exams. that were already stressing out the student body of Weston college.

At the edge of the campus, a raven-haired reaper by the name of William T. Spears was silently observing the cheerful bustle of people who were basking in the sunshine after a rather dreary week. He himself was feeling quite content.

It was not because he particularly loved being outside, however it served somewhat as a relief from being confined to his office doing paperwork. When he had to venture out, it was for soul collections. One hardly had the time to pause and take in their surroundings. It was one of his infrequent days off.

He did not have much of an idea what to do with himself on these days. He typically would wander aimlessly in the human world. William just enjoyed the feeling of clearing his mind.

His mindless strolling eventually led him to a courtyard that was nearly unoccupied. A few students had scattered themselves across the area, a few in small whispering groups, others studying alone.

The peaceful atmosphere appealed to William. He decided that his people-watching would look less obvious if he were sitting someplace. He selected a somewhat shadier area with a few benches located closer to the borders of the courtyard. He ended up sitting a few meters away from a studious-looking boy with two-toned hair.

Ronald hardly noticed the reaper sitting near him, spending his time on the chapter he was going over until he finally reached the end. flipping the book closed, he sat up and stretched with a groan. His arm bumping his fountain pen from behind his ear and it fell to the stone ground, rolling over and under the nearby bench William sat upon.

William had noticed the boy's movement from the corner of his eye. Almost instinctively, he reached down and picked it up. Ronald, having heard the clatter of the fountain pen dropping, scanned the ground at his feet for it. William tapped him lightly on the head held the pen out to him, "Excuse me, I believe you dropped this."

"Oh, Thank you...sir?" he reached out to take the pen. The man looked too old to be a student, maybe he was a teacher? "Are you a professor here, or something? I can't say I recognize you..."

William mentally slapped himself. Now he needed to make up an excuse. He could say he was a substitute, but the boy would likely question which professor he was filling in for. It would be best to just spin a quick white lie.

"No, I'm not a professor. I just walked out here to get some fresh air. It is quieter and more peaceful here."

"Right now, it is. But usually it's a place you'd want to avoid if you are looking for quiet." Ron smiled brightly at the older man, "This is a college, after all. You have the house rivalries as well as the normal school-related events."

"Yes, but this is the first time I have come here. I was in need of somewhere to clear my mind, and this was the first place available." William relaxed at seeing the boy's bright smile. "This is probably the only time you'll see me here, though," he added as an afterthought.

"Shame. We don't get many visitors." Ron sat back down next to his books and sighed, looking up at the man, his smile never faltering; "It's nice seeing a handsome new face once in a while."

William blinked. Did he sense the boy was flirting with him? He assumed he would have been put off by his response and he was intrigued how the boy spoke so comfortably with him. "Oh, but surely you have some leisure time where you can leave the campus, can you not?" He found himself seated on the bench next to the boy.

"Leave? No, it's against the rules. Not even the P4 can simply leave campus in their free time." The blond shook his head, "Maybe after Graduation."

William felt a slight pang of sympathy for the boy. He would never admit it even to himself, but there was the part of him that craved freedom. It was only because he concealed it so well that others did not take notice because of his reputation as the uptight, merciless professional worker. He was the ideal model. Grell Sutcliff's behavior and attitude contrasted his so greatly, which further masked him.

Still, this struck him as curious. What kind of college was this? "Really? Not even for holidays? What do you do for your own pleasure?" As soon as the words came out of his mouth, he winced.

"We can go home for the holidays if our parents wish it...but my father has me stay here." the boy shrugged as if it were no big deal—he'd gotten used to it long ago. "When I'm not studying I usually either hang out with a few friends, or keep to myself and work on my paintings in the art room...if the room is not being used for a class at the time." He smirked, seeing the man wince, "Or did you mean it in...other ways? In which case, that would be very forward of you, sir."

William flushed. His rushed question had been a slip of the tongue. At first he was at loss of words to say. But then again, he reprimanded himself, why should he be worried about what a mere mortal boy thought of him?

Still, what he had said further intrigued him. "But do you ever get to visit your family? Your social life seems a bit lacking for someone of your age." He paused, "As for what I said earlier ...My question was up to your own interpretation."

"I haven't seen them in three years." The blond sighed, "My Father's an English Duke, but my Mother is Italian. My family currently resides in my mother's hometown. My father sent me here for further education, and once my brother is old enough, he'll be joining me."

"How old is your brother?" William inquired. "Will he be joining you soon? You will have some familiar company, at least ..." He paused, but continued when the silence seemed to last longer than it should, "You do not seem to speak so enthusiastically of your family."

Ronald shrugged, "It's not like they try hard to see me...or write. I get a package twice a year and that's it. Hell, I could die over here and they wouldn't notice."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Before he realized it, William reached over and gently pat the boy on the shoulder. "But concerning your future...are you free to pursue whatever career you desire when you graduate?"

"Nope." The blond sighed, leaning back and lacing his fingers behind his head, "I have to take over for my father when he's ready to step down...gotta marry some girl I never met, too...don't even like girls that way..."

William was slightly surprised on how open the boy was speaking to him. He didn't even know his name yet. He was at loss for words to console him. He never had much experience in comforting someone, and he was already feeling uneasy with himself speaking so personally with an ordinary human.

Arranged marriages were not uncommon. In the souls he reaped before, there were quite a few cases who were assigned partners against their will. Most lived rather leaden, dull and unhappy lives until their deaths. A few had been rather violent deaths from their partners themselves. He hoped this would not be the boy's fate.

"I apologize, but I do not have any good advice for you. All I can tell you is that it is you, and only you who can truly take control of your life. If this is not what you want your future to be, then your father is merely an obstacle in which you need to pass to get to where you want to be. That is all I can say." He looked at him straight in the eye.

"You don't know my father." the boy sighed, "Me walking up to him and telling him I want to be a painter and not a duke, would only be forgiven if I tell him I won't marry whats-her-name because I may as well have been a daughter rather than a son because I'd rather be with another man... I'd be filling out my own death sentence!" He looked at Will and stiffened, "...Sorry, you probably don't want to hear all this."

William shook his head. "Do not worry. You seem as if you had the need to voice it. This kind of situation often does not simply settle well." He removed his hand from the boy's thin shoulder. "But I am concerned, what will your father do if you do not follow in his place?"

"...depends on if he'd been drinking or not..." Ron sighed, "It's hard to tell sometimes, if he has."

William tensed. There were a lot of things implied in his statement that only increased his worry for the boy. And he was not even sure why. In his mortal life, he had been raised in a strict but loving family. He had a strong bond with his father, and he always felt a certain pity for those whose souls he had reaped who had destructive relationships with their own parents. He felt a large wave of sympathy wash over him, and he was consumed with the sudden urge to embrace him for comfort…

No. He shouldn't be investing his time with this one person. Why should he suddenly feel concern for someone whom he just met, and was likely to never see again after this day? William shouldn't even attempt to get attached. He could not stay and listen to the rest of his story. He stood up suddenly and made a hasty apology, "I'm so sorry, but I must be going now. I wish you the best, and hope things will somehow work themselves out in your favor."

With that, he turned abruptly and walked out of the courtyard rather quickly, not turning back in fear to see a hurt expression on the boy's face.

Ron hung his head. Great. now he'd gone and scared off the guy. That's what he gets for talking openly—for once. Gathering his books, he stood up and walked back into the building, making his way up to the art room; determined to finish his painting. At least paint could understand and be there for him.

Ronald dumped his books onto a table and pulled out his painting, setting up near the window to start working.

Most people would assume he'd paint a nice landscape, something bright and cheery, as that was what he normally showed in his personality, but he grabbed his dark colors, painting vigorously a dark scene; a storm at sea; a lone figure clinging to wreckage.

William continued walking as fast as he could away from the college. It was late afternoon, and the sun was already beginning to set; it was a warm spring day, however, still dusk arrived a bit early.

He crossed many other people, many of them children holding the hands of their loving parents. Smiling teenagers gathered in tight circles, laughing and joking with one another. William tried his best to shake the image of the sad-eyed nameless boy who had a soft smile and spoke so easily to him. It was so rare for anyone to address him so casually. At work, he hardly ever spoke to anyone unless strictly for work-based conversations. He actually did not mind being on his own and cherished peacefulness and quiet. But having a simple, casual, friendly conversation was something almost foreign.

The boy's story had been tugging at William's heartstrings and he willed the feeling away, but it stubbornly remained. He was not supposed to feel this way about a stranger. He reminded himself over and over again. But as he was doing so, he realized, he had made a turn back and was heading the same way he had been walking from. He would just see if the boy was still there. If he was, he would apologize, as it was a bit too cruel of him to leave so abruptly. He would tell him that it was because he had an appointment, and he realized he was late (but then missed it, so he returned); that it wasn't anything the boy had said to him. He would just try to ensure he did not feel guilty.

He stopped and scanned the area. From his line of vision, he could see the benches he had sat upon nearby. He saw the fountain pen lying on the seat of the bench, but the boy was nowhere to be seen.

So the boy was gone. That should have been the end of it. William paced back and fourth, wandering around the courtyard with his eyes hoping to spot a bit of bright blonde hair. But there was nobody. The few students lying around were beginning to head indoors, shaking one another's hands or hastily swapping notes.

Would it be best for him to just leave? He could not enter the college without making a scene. He was not in fear of danger, but going through the trouble was not worth it. Or was it? The boy mentioned that he had friends, didn't he? He would probably be back with them, laughing off what had just happened, and forgetting ...

He turned away and left the courtyard. Unsure of what to do next, he headed to a nearby outdoor restaurant that was seemingly quiet and sparse in people. He assumed he could just eat something, clear his mind a bit, and enjoy what was left of his day off.

* * *

 

Darkness had settled over the college campus, and the curfew was set, leaving each corridor and courtyard empty of all students—all but one. The blond boy snuck across campus, a painting tucked under his arm, and his box of paints and brushes in the other. Breaking curfew and leaving the school grounds, both punishable offenses of the rules. But Ronald didn't care. He'd had too much on his mind and needed to escape. So, he took up his one special painting he'd been working on for months, and went to his special place in London; a bridge overlooking the park. He set up and continued to paint the scene before him, his painting showing evidence of the changing seasons in layer beneath layer of paint; but it was dark, yet again, holding a lonely feel to it with the lone figure left untouched and shrouded in darkness.

William had finished a fairly simple meal. When he walked into the human realm, he made sure he was well-equipped with money. The last thing he needed was to cause trouble or draw attention to himself.

He hated it. He could not get the blonde-haired boy off his mind. Almost every person who he passed seemed to resemble or remind him of the boy. Was it all the guilt tugging at him, or was it something else?

Dusk had fallen, and he wandered the dimly-lit streets. He once again treaded into a seemingly vacant park. It was not pitch dark, but there were very few lamps that gave off a weak glow.

There was the sound of calm, flowing water, and he noticed a small stream. A little wood bridge was built over the it, and he could see someone hunched over, and seeming to be...painting? The person's head was turned downwards, and he was engrossed in what he was doing. Golden hair caught the light of a lamp, a shade just like the boy from earlier. William thought he would leave, so he'd avoid yet another thing that reminded him. But curiosity got the better of him; what would someone be painting in this kind of darkness?

He slowly walked over to the bridge and stood behind the figure. The wood creaked under his weight, and the painter whirled around, panic in his eyes. The same blue eyes he had set eyes on that afternoon.

When Ronald jumped, his painting fell from where it had sat on his lap, propped up against the railing of the bridge, Y—you...it's you!" he said, recognizing the older male. He stood up, looking fearfully at the man, "Please don't report me to the headmaster!"

William snapped out of his shocked and dazed state when he spotted the boy's painting topple off his lap and teeter off the edge of the bridge. He swooped down and grabbed it seconds before it was about to land into the water.

He couldn't believe it was him. A part of him laughed at himself; if he were to wander mindlessly, would he always be magnetically pulled right into this boy's path?

The student was cowering underneath him, muttering repeated apologies and something about painting and getting expelled. "Do not look so afraid. I won't try to get you into trouble. Just tell me why you're out here. Wouldn't a lighter place serve your eyes better?" He handed the boy back his painting. "It's a safer place for your paintings as well."

"I needed to get out...and I can't often sneak out like this, so this painting has been...slow..." he looked down at it, frowning at a stray brushstroke, and taking out a paint-covered rag to try and clean it off before it dried too much and he'd have to find a way to blend it in, "This one's always painted in the dark."

"I see..." William mused softly. "Does it look different to you in the dark than it does in the light? Why do you choose to paint in this kind of environment ...?"

The boy was suffering, he could plainly see through his painting. Although Shinigami needed glasses to see, they had very developed nocturnal vision, so they could work even late into the night. He saw the details of his painting, a lone figure, the mix of brighter colors suffocated by darkness.

He was glad to see the boy again. He could apologize this way. It was plain to see that he needed some way to get what he was suffering out. He could at least give him a listening ear for one more night.

"Because I can't see the colors I use that well, I end up getting a bit deeper colors which I find look very pleasing to the eye. I started doing so on my paintings for class, as well. I do most of it in the day, but the final layers, I turn off my lights in my dorm while working. it's impressed quite a few people" he explained, and sighed, setting the painting aside next to his paints, "Look...I'm sorry I scared you off last time, sir. I normally never talk about such things with anyone...you were just so easy to talk to, I couldn't stop..."

"Please do not worry." He tried to reassure him by placing his hand over the boy's shoulder. "The reason I left had nothing to do with what you said. I apologize. Do not feel any guilt over this." He paused. "If you want, we can continue our conversation. It is not too late; we could go somewhere more comfortable to talk."

Ronald bit his lip, "You wouldn't rather talk about something else? It can't be nice hearing a teenager complain..." he looked up at William, realizing he didn't know his name, "I...I'm Ronald, by the way...Ronald Knox." he held out his hand.

"Ronald Knox", William repeated, trying the name out for himself. "It is an unusual name. Are you named after someone?" He smiled and bowed slightly, hastily adding, "I am William T. Spears."

"William T.?" Ronald smirked, "What's the 'T' stand for, Will?" He gave William's hand a firm squeeze as they shook before addressing the question presented to him, "My family has a tradition that the first born son gets his father's middle name as his first name. So I guess that would mean I'm sort of named after my father?"

William chose to not to answer the first question, and took note of what Ronald was telling him. "It suits you, Ronald." He realized he was still firmly grasping the student's hand and quickly loosened his grip, dropping it to his side, and then adjusting his glasses.

Ronald blushed and adverted his gaze, looking down at his painting, "Well…what do you do? …Job-wise, I mean…"

William knew in the back of his mind that this question would eventually surface, but it still caught him slightly off guard. He scrambled for the most believable answer.  
"I work for ... an eyeglasses company ..." He mumbled.

"Do you enjoy it?" Ronald asked, "You seemed kinda unsure about it…"

William sighed. "I did not have much choice on the matter. It is more difficult than one would believe." He paused and his mind drifted for a few moments, thinking of his closest co-workers in his section. He would not go as far as to say they were great friends, but he held them in high regard. They had a closer bond than anyone else in the dispatch. He looked at Ronald and gave a slight smile. He tried picturing Ronald as a shinigami. "But at the end of the day, it is what you are given, and what you make out of it."

Ronald was silent a long moment, looking up at William, "There's…something about you…" he muttered in a low voice, "Something…special…" he flushed a deep red, and was glad for the darkness.

"Thank you," William said, softly. Ronald was not looking him in the eyes, and William felt a little less nervous. "There is something very unique about you as well," William said softly.

"A-are you married?" The question spilled from the blond's lips before he could stop it, "Ah! I-I mean.. I'm sorry, I didn't… I…should just shut up and leave now…" his face couldn't get any redder. Why the hell had he asked such a thing?

"No! I wish- I mean...no...I have not found someone yet...No, I'm not married." William was equally flustered. The question really caught him off guard. "Oh, but don't leave!" He quickly added. If he could flush more, he would be doing so. He sounded so desperate for the boy to stay. "What I meant was, don't worry about it ... I was just curious why you asked so suddenly?"

"I…don't know…I asked before I could think…and..." the boy shifted nervously, "I…think I like you, sir."

"Thank you..." was all William could say at that moment. He was becoming all too aware of his own growing feelings for the young student. The nagging voice in the back of his head was beginning to fade. "I certainly enjoy your company as well," he said. "I've never met anyone like you ..."

"You mean that you let talk you into a stupor?" Ronald smirked, gathering his paints and putting them away properly and cleaning out his brushes so they wouldn't be ruined the next time he pulled them out.

"That is one way to put it, yes." William mused as he watched the artist carefully put away all his art supplies. He kept his eyes on the painting. "But to be honest, you are just an interesting person to converse with. I wish we could be able to talk and get to know each other more ..." he thought out loud.

"Then why don't we?" Ron asked, closing up his box of paint and standing up, "We have tonight, and you could always visit me on campus…"

"That is true..." Wlliam agreed. But his inner voice was nagging him once again—how could he visit the boy? His free days were infrequent. As much as he disliked it, he knew it would be much better for Ronald to forget about him and find someone else who could always be there for him.

Should he be completely selfish and say yes? Keep the boy waiting for his return for one day every few months?

He wanted to.

If the boy found someone to replace him, then he would accept it. But for now, he decided, he would enjoy the rest of the night and visit him every free day he had. The desire to be with Ronald had really begun to overpower all other rational thoughts in his mind. "Let us go somewhere, then? Or else I might just decide to report you, as you are unsupervised."

Ron looked up at him with a pouting look, "You wouldn't report me, would you?" he teased.

"As someone older, I have authority to. Are you willing to test me?" William challenged.

"You can't be that much older! No more than…ten years at the most!" Ronald said, guessing the man before him was about twenty-eight.

"It still qualifies as older," he countered. Although if only the boy knew his actual age, he wondered if he would be sent running.

"It's still not by much!" Ron insisted as they walked side-by-side along the path, "Hell, my dad could be the same age as yours. He's quite a bit older than my mum."

"Well, tell me, how old are _you_?" William asked. He was genuinely curious. He also wanted to know the exact age gap between them. "The truth, please."

"I turn eighteen in a few weeks." Ronald admitted with a shrug, "Shouldn't be that surprising. You already know I'm a student. How old are you?" he smirked, leaning in towards the man slightly as they walked.

"I knew around that age range. I just wanted to know specifics." William stated as-a-mater-of-factly, "As for my age, I am Twenty-six." William tried to make his age as low as possible, yet still believable. "Do I look older to you?" he challenged, teasing. He looked Ronald in the eyes and smiled.

"Hey I had guessed ten years at the most, didn't I? I wasn't too far off." The boy grinned wider, seemingly pleased with himself for being so close on his guess, "That'd mean I was thinking 27-28. I was only a year or two off!"

"Congratulations, you are good at this." William sighed internally. He was afraid the boy would question him, and was relieved he seemed to take it in stride. Still, he would feel much more comfortable once they got off any subject that required him disclosing personal information.

"Your art shows a high level of skill for someone your age," he remarked, motioning at the supplies in Ronald's arms.

"Th-thanks…" Ronald blushed and looked down at the painting in his hand as they stepped off the path through the park and onto the cobblestone streets of London.

"You're welco-," William abruptly threw himself in front of the boy. He saw Ronald had been staring at his painting, lost in his thoughts for a moment, and as he took a step forward, his foot landed into a groove in between the cobblestone. His body pitched forward sharply as his ankle twisted, and his painting flew from his hands. William caught him just in time, as both of them hit the ground.  
A split second later, they were both splattered with dirty water as the painting landed facedown in a puddle.

Ronald had gasped in pain from his ankle as he landed atop William, his art supplies scattering along the ground. He was about to apologize to William when the water splashed them, catching his full attention. He gasped and scrambled over to pick up his painting to survey the damage, "Shit!" He used his sleeve to attempt to clean the dirty water off it before the painting was ruined further.

"Are you alright?" William asked, leaping to his feet. He attempted to aid the boy. He dug into his jacket for a folded handkerchief he sometimes used to clean his glasses. He again sat and lightly patted down the canvas, trying to disturb the paint as little as possible.

Ronald was quiet as they cleaned the painting as much as they could, and he sighed, looking down at it. Most of the newest layer had been taken off, and the dried layers, though stayed properly, had a slightly grimy look to it. It was his personal piece, one that held all his emotions, the one that had represented himself the most…and now it looked like it had been dragged through the mud—which, in a way, it had. "I'm…fine…I can always redo it…"

"No, you shouldn't." William stated, firmly.

When Ronald stared at him questioningly, he continued, "A piece like that has gone through much. I can see that you painted part of yourself onto the canvas. It was what you felt and experienced at that time. It could only have been done then. If you redo this, it won't be the same painting. It can look the same, visually, but it will never hold the same emotion. It may hold different memories, and different feelings, but it won't be the same painting as before. That is the reason you cannot "redo" a painting." William gently took the painting from Ronald's tight grasp. "Don't clean off any more. The cleaning, in turn, might ruin it even more. Paint over the muddy spots. Don't give up."

Ronald looked up at the reaper in silence, and then he stood up and flung his arms around the man's shoulders. He didn't know exactly why he did so, he just did it as it felt right. Maybe this man actually understood him… "No one has ever seen the real meaning in my paintings before…"

William hugged him closer. "Then I'm honored to be your first art critic."

"Everyone's a…critic…" the blond tilted his face upwards to look at the reaper, blushing dark as he realized how close they were, noses nearly touching, "…You…are something more…"

Ronald's face was inches away from William's, and he felt his own face heat up. He heard his soft voice, and William felt him lose coherent thought. His lips brushed against the other's. A split second later, realizing what he was doing, he immediately pulled himself back. "I'm so sorry," He lowered his head and covered his mouth. His face burned.

With a face equally as flushed; Ronald shook his head, dismissing the apology as he stepped forward once more and reached up to slowly move Will's hand away before reconnecting their lips, "Don't be…"

 _'You're foolish_ ,' what was left of Will's conscious mind thought. _'You are fraternizing with a human you have only just met._ ' The voice was nearly lost as he pulled Ronald into a deeper kiss. His hands found their way into his tangled hair, and he pulled him close so his body was touching his.

The blond let out a soft moan into the kiss, sliding his arms around the reaper's broad shoulders. William's lips melded perfectly with his, their bodies pressed tight against each other…Ronald lost himself in that moment, not caring that they were in public where they could be seen…where if the wrong person saw, his father would hear about it…it didn't matter, not now.

' _What are you getting yourself into? Stop before it is too late..._ ' the muffled voice in the back of William's head continued to surface. He was breathing more rapidly, and with difficulty, he broke the kiss. "Wait ..." He still held onto the other tightly. "Why ... someone like me? I don't...don't understand..." He rested his head on Ronald's shoulder. He felt at peace just holding the boy. But he feared the student would pull away any second. "Someone like me...I'm not good for you." He whispered, hints of mournfulness in his voice.

"…'not good for me'…you're the best thing that has happened in my life, Will…even if we've only seen each other twice…" he hugged him tighter, "I know I'm young…and maybe you see me as just a kid, but…I like you…a lot."

How could he possibly explain? He would likely never cross the boy's path again. And the very thought hurt William. As much as he didn't want it, it was dawning on him that he felt strongly for the boy, and the opportunity to back out was becoming slimmer.  
"It is unexplainable, how we feel this way despite the fact that w just met each other..." William mused. "You are just very special..." He trailed off.

"Then…lets see each other more…I'd like that…" Ronald mused resting his cheek on Will's shoulder.

"I ... We cannot." William loosened his grip on the boy. He looked anywhere but into the boy's eyes. "I won't be visiting this place anymore." After a pause, he let go of him and stepped back and he felt the warmth leave him. "It is nothing you did. This is about me. You don't know who I really am. I'm sorry."

Ronald felt crushed, his arms falling to his sides, "…Then…let me get to know you…" he whispered in attempt to hide the tears in his voice.

"There is the issue. I won't be returning. You won't see me again." Both could hear the regret laced in his voice. William, in a feeble attempt to comfort him, placed his hand on his shoulder.

Ronald pulled away and started to regather his things, "…You could if you tried."

It took all of William's willpower to hold back from calling the boy back, and pulling him into a strong embrace. Instead, he let his hand fall to his side, and watched, biting down on his tongue, as the boy took his supplies into his arms and started to walk off.

"I'm so sorry, Ronald..." he whispered.

* * *

 

William had resumed work as normal. He had assumed the boy would be easy to forget within a week, but it wasn't the case. The image of his soft blue eyes entered his mind frequently, and unwelcome. The memory of his smile and broken look as he pushed him away...

William continued to shake the persistent memories from his mind. He threw himself into his paperwork, toiling with more determination than ever before. He lost what little patience he had with his fellow co-workers, his reputation for being a workaholic transformed into being on the edge of insanity. But it did help. There were nights when he collapsed from exhaustion. He would be too tired to even think. As weeks passed, the boy slowly began drifting in the back of his mind. He would think of him less. But whenever he did, the regret would still be present.

How long would it take to completely forget him ...?

He had a reaping scheduled later that afternoon. It had been an especially busy week. He still had a large stack of his paperwork on one side and was currently filling out Sutcliff's already late work.

He glanced at the file. It would be helpful for him to at least know the name and location of the person. His exhausted eyes suddenly shot wide open when he saw the name.

"Ronald Knox" The student, died at age 18 - on the same day he was born.

He grabbed the file and scanned it thoroughly. He was expected to die drowning and from a head injury. He would drown in the river near the school campus.

This was a regular file. This boy was a brilliant artist, but no matter what angle William looked at it, he knew that would not be substantial for his life to be spared.

There were only a few hours before the soul collection. It was that irrational part of him taking over again: he wanted that boy to become a reaper. Not anyone else. He wanted Ronald Knox.

The weeks had passed by slowly for Ronald, each day seeming lonelier than before he had met William Spears…even his birthday, he found himself alone rather than hanging out with friends in the dorms, walking out to the river bank just outside the dorms that ran through the property. He sighed, staring down at the waters, "…Happy Birthday to me…" he muttered, having not even received a letter from his family yet.

The sky had clouded over, and after Ronald spent an hour by the riverbank, it began to rain. Without an umbrella, Ron stood up and turned to head back to the dorms, gasping as his foot slipped in a patch of mud and he lost balance on the bank. He fell back, crashing into the deep waters where the currents were getting stronger, sweeping him away.

Muscles burning, he tried to swim, to reach something to hold onto as fear gripped him. Crying out for help, he got a lungful of water, making him cough and sputter. The currents picked up, and before he could even attempt to do anything, he smacked into a rock, his skull cracking from the force. His world went black and he was completely unaware of the familiar figure suddenly standing over him, Scythe in hand.

* * *

 

A groan escaped pale lips, and Ronald opened his eyes to a blur of light He blinked several times, trying to clear his vision, panicking slightly when it didn't righten. Blurred hands came into his sight and a pair of round wire-rimmed glasses were set on his nose, his vision correcting itself at last. He turned his head to see a nurse smiling at him.

An hour later, Ronald was following that same nurse outside the infirmary, his mind numb. When he awoke, he had been told that he had died…and had been chosen to be reborn a grim reaper…a god of death. Told he couldn't contact his family anymore, as well as other basic laws of the realm. It had taken time to sink in, and now he was being escorted to meet with a senior reaper who would be in charge of him while he was a student at the Reaper academy. He had been given a plain black suit to wear, and told the importance of keeping his glasses in perfect condition. Before he was permitted to venture outside.

He looked up from watching his feet shuffle across the ground, spotting a single suited man in the distance, waiting for him. His heart skipped a beat—or five, not believing his eyes; "W-William..?"

 _'He should be heading up here by now._ ' William paced in the corridor. He had sacrificed a lot of extra work for this, but he knew it would be well worth it when he would see him again.

The said blonde's form suddenly appeared the corner and froze. Reaper-green eyes locked themselves on him. William's heart leapt. He struggled to keep a straight face. Ronald stuttered out his name in disbelief. The escort looked slightly surprised, but didn't voice it. This particular man was especially intimidated by William.

"It's Mr. Spears to you, Mr. Knox." He adjusted his glasses, then motioned at Ronald to follow him. He saw the boy's face fall at his cold greeting. "Thank you, I will take him from here," he addressed the escort. The nervous man bowed and left.

William turned and headed to his office.

Ronald followed silently, stepping into the office with an adverted gaze until the door closed, "…Is…is this why you left me? Because you were dead?"

William stood by the door, avoiding Ronald's eyes. "...Yes. A shinigami's duty is to harvest souls. Nothing more and nothing less. A shinigami cannot remain with a human without suffering dire consequences."

"…I see…" he looked up at William, "But I'm not one anymore! And…and I missed you, Please, William…didn't I mean anything to you?"

"Mr. Knox ..." William swallowed hard. He had worked so hard to forget his association with the boy, and here he was, to remain with him forever as a shinigami. He was overwhelmed with joy and a bit of fear. Time away from the boy had begun to clear his mind. He thought rationally. He was Ronald's supervisor. Ronald could soon become one of his co-workers. He couldn't rush into anything immediately. This slightly disappointed him, but he was happy to just have his company once more.

"I met you as a human. You had something special, and you still do. You were one of the few people who spoke to me so openly. But now, you are one of my apprentices. I'm your supervisor for the duration of your training. We will spend that time as close acquaintances. Is that alright with you?"

"…No." Ronald gave the older man a hard look, "I wasn't okay with you leaving then, and I'm not okay with this, now." He didn't care if William was a higher 'rank' or whatever it was for reapers, he approached the man and stared up into his green eyes, "You made the first move back then! I had thought then that I wouldn't be alone anymore, and you left. I'm not something to be played with like that! S-so tell me the truth…" he popped up onto his toes, pressing his lips firmly against Will's, "Am I something special?" he whispered against his lips.

As much as he wanted to respond, Will knew he had to get it off his chest. He pulled away and shook his head. "No. You're _more_ than just something special. That's why ..."  
He trailed off. He couldn't disclose the fact that he had to pull a lot of strings to get Ronald here.

"I made an advance on you without thinking, and without controlling myself. This is why I could not stick around for any longer. I didn't want you to wait for me. As cliché as it sounds, I was hoping you would resent me and forget about me. Then you would find someone and live a fulfilling life as a human. But you died months after I met you.  
You are starting a new life now. You are still young, and there are plenty of other reapers here. I don't want you rushing into something with someone like me." He took a step back.

"Spend some time talking to the other reapers," he added, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "You'll find out why most people avoid me. You saw a different side of me on my day off. At work, I am like a different person. I don't want you to completely hate me."

Ronald wanted to run—somewhere. But he didn't know his way around the strange new realm. He'd likely get lost. "The William I met…is the real William, right?" he held the man's gaze, "I don't care how you act at work! That's who you have to be, not who you are! I want to get to know _you_ more…"

"Ronald," William interrupted. "You will. You have the rest of eternity, if you choose to remain in the dispatch society. I won't leave. I am _not_ saying we should work separately. We will be acquaintances, correct? We will still get to know each other. I am asking you to..." He paused, and his voice trembled a bit. "...Be my friend. I'm asking to start out this way." He sighed. "You have misunderstood me. I want to get to know you better. We will become friends, I hope. But an intimate relationship is something I am afraid to rush into. I made a mistake the first time and hurt you. I sincerely apologize. I want you to be sure it really is _me_ that you want."

Ronald fell silent and finally adverted his eyes. Maybe he was just a kid, after all…a mistake the older reaper had made… And he had let it go to his head…he'd become too attached so quickly and had started to wish for something more…

He almost wished he had stayed dead.

William hated seeing the look of despair and anger on Ronald's face. He had no clue on what to say. How could he make the boy understand that he _did_ want a close relationship with him? But he wasn't the right man for him. He deserved better than some strict workaholic reaper who could not even express himself well. He was getting increasingly nervous as the silence dragged on. He wished he knew what the other was thinking. He wanted to leave the room, but he knew his actions would be misinterpreted. He waited for the boy to say something or leave.

As the silence continued to fill the room, Ronald moved over to the window and looked out. Why had he been chosen to be a reaper? The nurse he'd awakened to had said he was lucky…that it was a rare gift to be given in the afterlife…but it seemed too cruel. To be so close to the one person he had genuinely developed feelings for, only to be pushed aside. William hadn't been the first person to show an interest in something more with him…he had simply been the first Ronald had had a mutual interest in… But what could he do about it? He'd said all he could and it made no difference. Logically…the only option he could see that was left to him…was to try and forget William…

"Ronald, I think it might be best if you distance yourself from me ... Just for now. I'll reassign a supervisor for you. I already have a man in mind. I believe you will get along." William pictured Eric's face when he would spring the news on him later. He walked to the door and placed his hand on the doorknob. "But ... I hope to see you again soon. Train hard. I know you are skilled; you will become a fully-fledged reaper. On that day, I will be waiting for you." He cracked a small, sad smile. "But if you ever want to visit me just to talk, even before then, you are always welcome."

"If I do…become a fully-fledged reaper, will you open up to me again?" Ronald asked in a low voice, "Can we try again then?"

"Yes." William nodded. "Like I said, I will be waiting. Training will be long and difficult. But I know your supervisor is capable of guiding you. But as long as you persevere and follow instructions, you will do well."

William let go of the doorknob. He cautiously wrapped his arms around Ronald. There was nothing sensual about the act, but it still felt right to him. "My last words of advice: Don't give up." He then let go and smiled a bit before opening the door for him. "Paint over the muddy spots. Don't start over and give up. I'll know if you do."

* * *

  **End**

**Author's Note:**

> Thankyou for reading, we do hope you enjoyed it!


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